Notifications
by raquelicious
Summary: Alastor Moody sighed. Of all the jobs that had arisen during wartime, this was the hardest.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his friends. Sadly, that's illegal in this country.**

**Notifications**

Head Auror Alastor Moody wasn't as young as he used to be. He wasn't as whole as he used to be, either, in more ways than one. This was, perhaps, the reason he took his sweet time hobbling across the field. He didn't particularly _want_ to arrive at the tidy little cottage at the other end, because that was where his job lay, and it was, in his opinion, the most difficult job of the war. Hunting Death Eaters was easy- they'd made their choices. What was hard, though, was bringing pain to those whose only mistake was to love the people who were fighting.

He knocked on the door, and was greeted by a rather pretty young woman with red hair and bright brown eyes, like her brothers'. Strange enough, despite knowing she was married and starting a family, he always imagined a little girl when his Aurors mentioned their sister. "Molly Prewett?"

"Molly Weasley." she corrected him, with a polite and very content smile. She took a careful look at his missing leg, and his magical eye whizzing around in its socket, and a sudden realisation lit up her eyes. "You must be Auror Moody. My brothers have told me a lot about you. Come in."

She ushered him to a warm, welcoming living room, which bore telltale signs of young children- toys scattered on the floor, crayon drawings, smeared handprints on the floor. She smiled apologetically. "I would have cleaned up if I'd known you were coming." she said. "Would you like some... No, I don't suppose you would. Anyway, have a seat."

Alastor nearly smiled as she sat down on an armchair facing him. So she had indeed heard some things about him. Had either Prewett mentioned her being pregnant? Perhaps, but anyway, there were more important things to be discussed. This was wartime, after all.

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you know why I'm here, Miss Prewett- Mrs Weasley?"

"Oh, please, call me Molly." She attempted another smile. It wasn't entirely successful. "I suppose I might. Go on."

Alastor sighed. He had had this conversation far too many times to count, both on the giving and receiving ends. It didn't make it any easier. "Miss Prewett- Molly- Death Eaters broke into your brothers' apartment last night. This morning, we found Gideon and Fabian dead. They went down fighting."

She drew in a sharp breath, and raised a hand to her mouth. She was too young for this- most of them were. "I wouldn't have expected anything less of my brothers." she said, eventually, when the shock lifted. She pulled herself up and did her best to look brave, even trying for another smile. "Thank you for telling me-" she got out, and then she could no longer keep up the act and broke down, sobbing into her hands. Too young. She was too young for this. When would this blasted war end?

"Mum?" A positively tiny voice came drifting into the room, followed by a little boy who couldn't have been more than five years old. "Mum, why are you sad?"

He walked across the room, not even looking at Moody, and took one of his mother's hands in both of his. It was a distinctly grown up gesture, and it left Alastor with a strange feeling. Paranoia, he knew, but he'd learned to be suspicious of everything. He decided to check in on her once or twice in future, to make sure she wasn't in danger. He felt he almost owed it to the two young Aurors who cared so deeply for their sister.

Little Molly Prewett looked up from her hands at the boy- her son, he supposed. "Oh, h.. hullo, Percy." she said, with a watery smile. "It's okay... I'll be alright." And then she swept the boy up into her arms and started sobbing again, mumbling phrases like, "We're safe, I promise," and, "It'll all be okay." The boy patted her head clumsily as she cried, and Alastor saw what he had missed the first time- the awkward, imitative quality of a child's attempt to be older. The boy was trying to give his mother comfort the only way he knew how- patting her head and shushing her as adults must have done for him. Alastor tore his eyes away from the sight- two people who were much too young for war- and dug in his pocket- he knew he had them somewhere.

"Molly." he called her attention up, and she pulled herself together again, with that shaky determination he'd seen on so many faces before. "We have experts going over the scene now- Someone will be back to let you know when you can enter the apartment, but until then..." he pulled out two watches- one gold, and one silver- and handed both to her. "... I believe they'd want you to have these."

"Thank you, Auror Moody." She took the watches and clasped them to her heart for a moment, and then stood, shifting little Percy onto her hip, wiping her eyes. "I'll let you out."

As Alastor readied himself to apparate away, a small part of his mind told him that perhaps he should be grieving the Prewett brothers too. But then, he feared he didn't have enough pieces of a heart left to grieve for anyone, and instead, he felt for those who did. And he ignored the other, hopeful voice in his mind, telling him that maybe one day this would all be over and there would be no need for grief at all.

**So this is less of a 'what if' scenario, and more of my perspective on something that must have happened at one point. **

**I was thinking of doing two more chapters, one with Remus, the night James and Lily died, and one with Augusta Longbottom. Let me know what you think!**

**I hope you enjoyed it.**


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